At midnight I take my dog out to pee

The moon has gone and we see our breaths

The smell of tomorrow’s snow hangs in the air

Lights flicker on the far side of the lake

Unexpectedly over the far hill we hear coyotes singing

And we raise our cries in answer


On Oct 4, 2008, at 6:34 AM, roloro1557 wrote:

reality comes in on little cat feet
or bolts of lightning
it plays across the strings of violins
and drives to the bakery for a loaf of bread
it trickles down faces in tears
and lurks in the dirt on the rug
it moves in the wagging tail of a dog
or finds a voice in the song of a bird

Margie (roloro1557)

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